


Blue Bar

by Username2310



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Female Beelzebub (Good Omens), Fluff, Footnotes, Human AU, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Texting, all the pining, beeeeelz, beelzebub is also in speech therapy, bless his soul, but if you get the reference for the place holder ily, crowley is so smitten, for the love of god clean up the tags you animal, gabriel and aziraphale are brothers, god so many footnotes, i also have a speech impediment, i can relate, i cant think of a title, i think about this at work to keep form getting board, idk what this is, lololol, normal i see beelzebub is non binary but feeling spicy today im sorry, oh yeah, rofl, speech therapy, theyre private school bitches, this is so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-07-27 17:26:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Username2310/pseuds/Username2310
Summary: Crowley's Tuesday and Friday afternoons are ruined for the foreseeable future after his father forces him to attend speech therapy because he was "supposed to grow out of his speech impediment years ago and now he's 15, it's shameful"It's dreadful.Until some private school book-worm starts showing up in the waiting room before his appointments, piquing his interest, making life a whole lot more interesting.





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley attends speech therapy, not by choice mind you but because several months ago his father cornered him in the car after school saying something along the lines of “Really, Anthony, a 15-year-old shouldn’t still have a speech impediment, this is humiliating” then, instead of driving them home, dropped him off to the dreadful office without even a magazine rack to peruse where he has to wait anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and a half for the person ahead of him to finish up[1], only to then be subjected to more torture in the form of a series of exercises no doubt designed for 6-year-olds, and he has the honour of suffering through this twice a week for however long it takes pronounce S’s correctly[2].

Having nothing to do while he waits[3] he’s taken to observing the waiting room, taking it all in. On this particular day there are 3 potted plants in desperate need of attention, 2 receptionists one is an older lady who refuses to look him in the eye or even acknowledge he’s there while the other, is a much younger girl not much older than himself[4], Mary he thought her name was, always greets him with a very cheerful “Good day, Mr. Crowley!!”[5] Crowley isn’t quite sure which treatment makes him more uncomfortable, and 1 other person in the waiting room.

This newcomer, who has been there for every session for at least a month, is there before Crowley arrives every time and he always has a book[6]. He appears quite proper with his fresh-pressed slacks and a pristine button-down with a sweater vest and some sort of winged emblem over the left breast, perhaps he attends a private school? Regardless it’s rather drab for someone who appears to be a high schooler himself. His perfect blonde curls bounce as he nods his head whenever he agrees with the author and, on the rare occasion when he looked up from his book to check the time, Crowley gets to see his stunning blue eyes; somehow still radiant despite the dungeon-like lighting of the waiting room.

The person whose appointment is before his own is always the same, a short girl black hair, my chemical romance vibes, never smiles. She storms past the receptionist desk ignoring Mary’s up-beat call of “see you next time, miss”. Occasionally she’ll bark a quick, “We’ll leave without you, Zira” at the boy reading, pushing through the doors without waiting for him. Zira, what an odd name odd but intriguing something he could get used to hearing. Crowley is torn between laughing at Zira scramble to gather his things, and feeling mildly annoyed by the aggression directed at the poor guy.

After witnessing this many times now, Crowley has decided he hopes they aren’t dating. Only because it’d be an unfair relationship, of course, and not because the boy is gorgeous and he wouldn’t mind having a go himself. Maybe they were siblings? Crowley doesn’t care, really, but thinking about it does make the wait feel shorter, so on his next visit rather than re-count the number of scuff marks and dents in the ceramic flooring, he slides into the seat next to Zira instead of giving him the usual 3 chair gap to avoid conversation. “Zira, is it?, Crowley attempts to sound suave but the waiting room’s narrow chairs force his gangly limbs into an awkward position, and the ‘is’ gets far too drawn out making it sound more like “Zira, issss it?” Crowley curses his apparent serpentine ancestors.

Aziraphale visibly jumps engrossed with his book and not expecting an interruptions so soon, stumbles over his reply, “Yes uh rather, Azriaphale actually, I don’t quite like my name shortened[7],” he pauses momentarily gently placing today’s book[8] in his lap using his thumb as his makeshift bookmark his face now baring an adorable frown, “how did you know my name, good fellow?”

‘Good fellow’ Crowley can’t help but smirk a little, “Apologies, that’s what your sister calls you after her appointments so I just assumed, bit tetchy isn’t she?” he curses his speech impediment more and more as each word leaves his mouth; any microscopic hope that Aziraphale would find him cool enough to talk, maybe even exchange numbers, was completely dead.

“Goodness no! She’s not my sister.” Aziraphale almost looks offended.

Crowley’s heart buckles a little of course she’s his girlfriend and he even called her “tetchy”, what an idiot. He tries to swallow his grimace before speaking once more, “ah yes, girlfriend then? Sorry about the tetchy comment she-”

Aziraphale nearly retches at the implication, “Dear boy, you really must stop assuming things.” He adjusts his tartan bow tie[9] and continues, “if you must know Beelz is my brother’s girlfriend and I am only here because he refuses to wait and promises to stop driving me home from school if I’m not here when she gets out.” He lets out a small sigh, indicating irritation, but from the look he gives the door, it’s directed more at the girl behind it than his new companion.

“Right, she doesn’t seem like the type who’d need a babysitter though” Aziraphale smiles at the babysitter comment, a truly angelic sight; something Crowley hopes to see more of in the future.

“If left unattended she, well, doesn’t attend, says it’s far too childish for someone her age,” Aziraphale grimaces[10], “I don’t mind though it gives me plenty of time to read.” and there it is again; the beautiful smile.

Before Crowley can even consider replying, the slam of the speech therapist’s heavy door echos off the nearly empty waiting room and a mass of black is shifting quickly in then out of his line of sight, indicating the end of the girl Crowley now knows as Beelz’s session.

“Come on, Zira, you can talk to your boyfriend on Friday,” the girl shouts, already halfway through the door as eager as ever to leave.

“Right, yes,” Aziraphale is quickly but kindly shoving his book into his messenger bag, “I do suppose I will be seeing you on Friday then, Mr. Crowley, I quite enjoyed our talk."

The tables are reversed for Crowley is now the one confused as to when the other acquired his name, Aziraphale catches on to this and quickly adds, "Miss Mary greets you every time you come, that’s how I knew” blessing him with one final radiant smile, before making his usual quick exit.

Crowley sinks deep in his chair[11]. Friday, he can’t help but think how soon yet far away it is all at once. For the first time since starting Crowley is glad his father drops him off early; and is even a bit excited for his next session, despite the current one not even beginning yet.

[1] His father couldn’t be bothered to drop him off at the time of his actual appointment he’s a busy man of course.

[2] Or until his father stops being embarrassed by him which is far less likely to happen.

[3] There is only so much you can do on your phone before it gets boring.

[4] This is probably just an after school job for her.

[5] She tried for several weeks to start conversations with him upon his arrival but eventually decided he mustn’t be the talkative type and now leaves it at the greeting.

[6] A new one each visit, thick and old but well-loved; not a page out of place.

[7] His brother and everyone associated with him insist on calling Aziraphale various nicknames to annoy him.

[8] The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.

[9] An item of clothing Crowley has yet to see him wear before today and plans on teasing Aziraphale about his old-fashionedness should the other choose to continue speaking to him after making such a fool of himself.

[10] Possibly recalling the incident which resulted in his new position of ‘babysitter’, which consisted of Beelz not going to her session at all and choosing to instead smoke a pack of cigarettes in the parking lot, and flick the butts at her therapist’s car.

[11] He refuses to get up until the therapist specifically asks for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @angelicallydevilish on tumblr <3xo


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel enters the battle.

As the car rushes pass Crowley just barely sees people shaped blurs walking their dog-shaped blurs down the pavement, but more accurately he’s tapping a familiar rhythm[1] out on the window whilst bouncing his leg erratically.

“You’ve been going for months, why are you still nervous?” his father snaps, not pretending to harbour any real concern, only the annoyance caused by his son’s very apparent fidgetting.

Crowley deeply wants to bite back with ‘I’m not nervous for stupid speech therapy I’ve only ever been annoyed with it not that you care.’ but knows better than to 'sass’ his father. Instead, he straightens his back, folds his hands in his lap and replied meekly, “Sorry, just excited for the weekend, father.”

This was a lie, of sorts, he was excited; just not for the weekend. Ever since Tuesday, the only thing he’d been able to focus on for longer than a handful of seconds was the boy in the waiting room, it had been a continuous thought throughout his every waking moment; everything else was trivial. Do homework, picture his perfect golden locks. Take out the trash, think of ways to make him smile again. Eat lunch, wonder what ridiculously old book he’ll bring to read next time. Breathe, question how such a perfect being could exist.

He stops his fidgeting, and they don’t speak for the rest of the ride, even as they sharply pull up to the, now very familiar, building his father is peeling out without so much as a goodbye or an 'I’ll see you in a couple of hours.’ This doesn’t falter Crowley’s mood though, because it’s Friday and it feels as if he waited far longer than 2 days.

Crowley saunters into the waiting room with an eye-catching exaggerated sway of the hip, which from an outsider’s perspective made him look like a baby deer learning to walk. He beats Mary to her usual greeting, throwing her a quick wave and he hears the older receptionist grumble something about 'delinquents these days’ to which he rolls his eyes and Mary laughs before returning his wave with that extra bit of cheer he’d come to expect from her[2].

He redirects his attention to the seating area adjacent to the receptionist desk, singing out a long “Gooooood evening, Aziraphale.” as he approaches. Only once he raises his eyes from the floor to greet his new companion with a grin does he realize his mistake; as he isn’t alone.

A young man, the visual opposite of Aziraphale: taller, leaner, more grayscaled; from his hair to his clothing[3], is sitting the very seat Crowley had just two days before. He looks up from his phone and a grin breaks out across his face, “When I heard from Beelz that baby Zir-Zir made a living breathing friend I just had to check it out myself, I’m still a bit shocked the freak got someone to speak to him.” The man laughs and extends his hand to shake Crowley’s, who quickly swerves to avoid it, taking the seat on the opposite side of his friend[4], this quickly turns the man’s smile into a scowl.

He finally chances a glance at Aziraphale, who has his head in his hands, thoroughly embarrassed, and mumbling just barely loud enough to hear, “Gabriel, please stop.”

The man, Gabriel, gives Aziraphale’s pleading no mind and continues, “Well I’ve seen him, and he’s just as big of a freak as you are so it makes slightly more sense,” Crowley snarls at his comment, ready to reply with a snappy, 'Aziraphale is not a freak. Actually, I approached him. Who the hell are you anyway?’[5] but is cut off by Gabriel abruptly standing and obnoxiously clapping his hands, the sound slightly echoing off the waiting room’s bare walls. “Right, well I’m not spending a minute more than I have to with you losers,” He spins his keys around in his finger “I’m going to Starbucks, want anything?”

Aziraphale gives him a side glance, unsure how to respond, “Oh yes, well that is if you don’t mind, a hot choco-“

“That’ll ruin your diet though won’t it?” Gabriel gives him a look of faux concern[6] “You are trying to lose weight right? If you aren’t you really should be!” Gabriel laughs and slaps Aziraphale’s stomach, giving a final “later losers” on his way out the doors. Aziraphale laughs, the sound is so fake and stiff, and all the shine is gone from his eyes; Crowley’s heart tightens.

He waits to hear the heavy glass door slam shut again, indicating Gabriel’s exit, before switching seats with the one on the other side of Aziraphale out of principle and finally speaks, “What a charmer, real shame he had to leave so soon.” The force of which he rolled his eyes left him with a minor headache, "Your brother?" Aziraphale gives a weak nod and Crowley grimaces, "Does he always treat you like that?"

Aziraphale sighs, "Well that's just brotherly love isn't it?" he smiles, though it wavers slightly as if even he doesn't believe it.

Crowley shrugs, having no actual point of reference[7], "Just seems cruel to me."

Things are silent for a few moments and Crowley fears he finally managed to offend his friend, that is until Aziraphale looks at him, this time brandishing the stunning smile that Crowley is a little ashamed to admit makes him a little weak in the knees and has occupied his thoughts more than not in the two days since their first meeting. “Oh but I am quite happy to see you again,” he looks away quickly pulling at the little pieces of fluff coming out of the waiting rooms chairs[8] “I mean to say, it can be rather boring sitting here alone so it’s beneficial to us both”

Crowley knew for a fact that the only person this benefits is himself, Aziraphale finding great company amongst his books, but decides against disputing the obvious lie and instead smirks and says, “I couldn’t agree more.” Scared of touching the topic of being over the moon to see him again, he stretches his long legs out in front of himself[9], “So your brother is American?” He immediately wants to hit himself for bringing up Gabriel again.

“Ah yes, well our mother needed to move to American for work he went with her, while I chose to stay, here with my grandparents,” he releases a short sigh, “but she decided to move back this summer so Gabriel and I could attend high school together”

“How kind of her, I can see how thrilled you are.” Crowley’s reply drips sarcasm and once again he fears his new friend was getting tired of his ‘cool guy facade’ and start avoiding him[10], until he sees Aziraphale smirk, he takes this as clearance to continue, “So,” Crowley places his arms behind his head and lazily glances at Aziraphale, “Is your mum some kind of religious nut or something? Naming her kids Gabriel and Aziraphale; sounds sort of biblical doncha think?” He nearly facepalms, why yes, Anthony, the quickest way to a guy's heart is insulting his mom, what was wrong with him?

Aziraphale is completely unfazed, “She is a bit of a ‘religious nut’, as you put it, not in the applied sense, but she’s a writer; her main focus being religious text and the public’s interpretation of them. I suppose to her the names are quite ‘normal’ as she sees them all the time” he seems satisfied with his response before turning towards his companion, “your name isn’t so normal yourself, honestly who names their child Crowley?” He smirks, his response is only half-joking.

“Crowley is my last name you twit,” he bites his tongue, not meaning to insult his friend; it just slipped out.

The comment seems to have gone unnoticed however, Aziraphale immediately pales, “Oh goodness, now I’m the one making assumptions, it seems I’ve made a right fool of myself, what is your first name then my dear?”

‘My dear’ Crowley’s breath catches, for just a moment hopefully short enough as to go unnoticed by outsiders, but definitely long enough to cause him to fumble over the words, "Uh…Oh yes, Anthony.” He’s far more dazed than he really should be, even his own name sounds foreign.

“Anthony?” Aziraphale sounds just mildly surprised.

“What, you don’t like it?” Crowley laughs, “I’m sure it isn’t hard to change a name.” He’s only half-joking, at this point he’d let Azriaphale call him anything if it meant he’d keep talking to him.

“What? no, no, I had just gotten used to Crowley in my mind,” Aziraphale smiles softly, “no need to change your name, my dear.”

Ah, another dear, so this was a thing he’d have to get used to now. He’s not nearly as shocked hearing it this time, but his heart still stutters. “Well, keep calling me Crowley. It can be our thing, a little inside joke amongst friends.” Accompanied by a nervous laugh and an overcompensating wink.

“Friends?” Aziraphale’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape, the shock written all over his face.

Shit! Friends why did he have to bring up friends?! He’s moving too quickly! He manages to keep his panic contained, except for losing what little control he had of his speech impediment; the harder his heart beats the longer his S’s drag out. “Sssssorry, wass that another wrong assssumption?” Any hope for leaving a cool impression on Aziraphale had quickly crumbled completely out of existence.

Aziraphale was no longer looking at him, but down at his hands, “No I just...I never had a friend before, only Gabriel and I suppose by extension Beelz; though they hardly count.” He looks up again revealing the softest smile Crowley had ever seen, “Thank you, Crowley, you’ve been so nice to me.”

He is at a loss for words, Aziraphale had also been his first friend. Were they going too quickly? They had only spoken to one another twice now, but it had felt like they’d known each other for many lifetimes. Crowley, of course, can’t say this so instead he puts his foot in his mouth and says, “Hey, Angel, watch who you call nice I have a bad-boy reputation to uphold!” He shoots Mary the least intimidating glare the Earth has ever seen when she starts to giggle.

“Angel?” Crowley looks back to his friend and noticed for the second time in just a matter of minutes he looks completely confused, now with an added rosy tint to his cheeks.

“Wot?” Crowley feels like he missed something in the 10 seconds he looked away and now he’s lost. Aziraphale is looking directly into his eyes, the blue so intense he almost needs to look away.

“You, just now, you called me ‘angel’” Aziraphale's stare is relentless, "Was that another 'friend' thing?"

Shit, he hadn’t even realized he said that. “Just...uh,” he was scrambling for an excuse when he didn't even know why he said it, “‘Aziraphale’ it’s an angel name right? Plus you’re so uh bright..yeah bright! With the hair and the clothes? Like an angel?" Crowley sighs deeply, "Sorry, won't happen again.”

“No, you can say it," Aziraphale finally moves his gaze from the centre of Crowley's soul to the armrests of the chairs where their arms are just a hair from touching, giving Crowley the chance to finally breathe again, "it can be an 'inside joke amongst friends', dear.” Crowley doesn't miss the way Aziraphale brings his hand[11] to his mouth and smiles into it.

Crowley slips further down the chair, smiling into his own hand, "Sure thing, Angel." He lets his eyes wander to the door across from the waiting room, the little ‘therapy in season please do not disturb :)’ sign still attached to it, “So how did someone as preppy as, _Gabe_[12], end up with someone so...grunge?" Why was _this _always his go-to topic changer?

Aziraphale jumps upon hearing his voice, still slightly dazed, "Oh yes, well, our mum is old friends with Beelz’s parents, she and Gabriel have been dating on and off for years[13]," He straightens up in his chair, "They get together when he comes home, break up when he goes back to America."

Crowley doesn't consider himself much of a romantic, but he can't stop the grimace that's spreading across his face, "Isn't that kind of depressing, knowing it's going to eventually end?"

"I don't know, it's never 'goodbye' just 'until next time',” Aziraphale smiles at the floor, “it's rather romantic knowing someone is waiting for you isn't it?"

"Wouldn't have pegged you as the romantic type, Romeo." The speed of which his stomach decides to tighten and flip rapidly increases as he watches his friend's blush spreads down his neck.

"Yes, well, I've never actually dated anyone before," Aziraphale wrings his hands together, looking at seemingly everything in the room but the person he's addressing, "however, the idea is quite nice."

Crowley takes in a shallow breath and decides that seeing Aziraphale gush about romance will, most likely, be his demise; so he only shrugs. Eyeing the other's abandoned messenger bag resting against the leg of the chair he finds his out, "Right. So, what are you reading today?"

Aziraphale's entire face comes to life as he quickly grabs his forgotten bag, taking out his book and looking longingly at it, "Oh! A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, it has been quite lovely so far."

It occurs to Crowley for the first time that perhaps he had forced himself on Aziraphale, when all the poor guy wanted to do was read his book, so he shifts his body back into an upright position[14] and plants his feet flat on the ground, preparing to move to a seat further away as to give Aziraphale some space, "I guess I'll leave you to it then."

However, before he can fully lift himself from the chair Aziraphale gently wraps his hand around his wrist and tugs him back down[15], "Perhaps," he nervously glances in the direction of the receptionist's desk satisfied to see they're far too occupied in their gossip[16] to pay them any attention and continues, "perhaps I can read aloud to you, if you would like."

Crowley's melts at the suggestion and nods vigorously, not trusting himself to reply verbally in fear of once again stumbling over his words. Aziraphale's smile touches his eyes as he magically opens the book to the page he had left off on.

Thankfully today was a longer session for Beelz, the two spend at least an hour just in each other's company. Aziraphale reading and making commentary while Crowley just listened.

Crowley will shamefully admit that by the end of it he had absorbed exactly 0% of the plot because the only things he could focus on were Aziraphale's tender grip on the book, the way his voice changed an octave when he reaches a passage he particularly enjoyed, the heat of their shoulders pressed together. He quickly decides that this is his new favourite activity and he would listen to Aziraphale read for as long as the other would allow him to. He doesn't mean to be greedy, he had gotten more than he would have ever expected, but when the therapist's door swings open and Beelz begins to stomp towards them he just barely suppresses a sigh.

She looks at Crowley, "Back again are we, lover boy?" This is the only thing he had ever heard her say that wasn't a mild threat towards Aziraphale, and it leaves him shocked enough that he fails to think of a reply before she gets bored and moves on to the exit, "Cut your make-out sess short or you’re walking, Zir!"

Aziraphale doesn't look nearly as flustered as he had last time, "We really must stop parting like this," He smiles, squeezing the strap of his bag tightly, "Until next time, Crowley, dear."

Then he's gone, and Crowley pretends he can't hear the therapist calling him into her office. He smiles thinking of the peaceful evening they'd had, of the progress they made in such a short time, of- shit! He forgot to ask for his number! His smile falters slightly at his idiocy, his self-pity is cut short, when Mary starts throwing crisps at him and giggling, "You'll see him again, Mr. Crowley, for now, you must go to your appointment!"

He sticks his tongue out at her, she was right though, they'd meet again.

Yes, they'd meet again, but for now he had a series of decade-old flashcards in the next room waiting for him; and he wasn't one to stand up a date[17]. So he puts his joy on the back burner and drags his feet to another useless session.

[1] Another One Bites The Dust - Queen

[2] Crowley will never admit it but with Mary being one of the only sources of joy in his life he is quite fond of her.

[3] This alone shouldn’t be cause for alarm, as Crowley is also taller, leaner, and more grayscaled than Aziraphale; it alarms him none the less.

[4] If Crowley leans a little too closely, and a little too defensively into Aziraphale is he really to blame?

[5] Probably best he didn’t, as it would only give Gabriel more ammo against him.

[6] One they may be mistaken for genuine, had the person witnessing it never interacted with Gabriel even for a fraction of a second like Crowley had.

[7] Crowley firmly believes it would take a woman with the patience of a saint to have sex with his father, that woman being Crowley's mother and even she had only let him touch her once before, very sorrowfully, passing when he was 8.

[8] Long overdue of a replacement but hasn’t been in the budget in the last few years.

[9] Similar to a cat in the sun.

[10] Like everyone else had up to this point.

[11] The one not dangerously close to being pressed against Crowley's.

[12] If the jerk likes nicknames so much he can have one too.

[13] Since they had learned what the concept of dating was, relatives would place at that age at about 5.

[14] By this point he had slithered so far down the chair he was practically laying down.

[15] Crowley is so shocked by the sudden contact he doesn't even bother protesting.

[16] He would be displeased to find out said gossip was about them, and what they could be talking about.

[17] Not that he'd ever seen on a date, let alone had the opportunity to stand one up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thick boy this time.  
Ahhh I've been trying to upload this since Friday, forgive me. I went on vacation and had no access to computers.  
I'm sorry this is so god awful omg things kept coming, I didn't read it over before posting because I'm so tired lol so if there are any mistakes please forgive me.  
Still open to title names rofl  
@angelicallydevilish on tumblr <3xo


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone that commented and left kudos <3 it's what keeps me going honestly.

The weekend was long and boring, something Aziraphale can honestly say he'd never experienced before, normally his books were more than enough to occupy him for hours. This weekend, however, each time he picked up his book he would end up staring at the same page for several minutes, or get through a few pages before realizing he hadn’t absorbed any of the text and needed to go back; it was apparent he was a tad distracted. The thing, or rather person, occupying his every thought possessed flaming hair, gangly limbs, and the most adorable speech impediment. He'd secretly been watching him for weeks now, chancing glances over his book when the other was distracted with his phone or trying to nap, trying to hide a laugh when he'd forget himself and nearly fall out of the chair, swoon when he pretended to check the time, only to look him directly in the eyes[1]. He was the kind of person who draws the attention of everyone in the room, confident, graceful, _beautiful_[2]. Yes, Aziraphale had been watching him for some time, and now they're friends; he couldn't be happier. Though sometimes your greatest joy may also be your greatest downfall, for the only thing on his mind is Crowley, and how many minutes there are left until the next time they'll meet.

After the weekend came Monday, as it always does, and with Monday came the promise of school and a wider array of things that could distract him and help the day pass quicker. This was not the case, however, when Aziraphale takes his usual seat for his first class of the day and immediately dismisses everything his Maths teacher is spewing at the class. The entire day plays out similarly, he nearly fell asleep in Biology, barely ate his lunch, and even Literature, his favourite class above all others, felt drawn-out and boring.

To his dismay, Tuesday was nearly an exact carbon copy of the day previous, except today was a therapy day, all the boredom he had felt was replaced with excitement causing him to his legs and tap his pencil against his textbook for nearly every class; until one of the Sisters had enough of it and threatened him with a week's worth of doing Hail Marys after school if he didn't stop immediately[3]. The moment the final bell rings he is the first student up and out the door, quickly gathering his things at his locker, then rushing to the student car park to wait for his brother.

Aziraphale fidgets with the strap of his bag, standing between Gabriel’s car[4], and the large iron gates at the edge of the schoolyard. Although his final class has been dismissed, he still had to wait for Gabriel and Beelz to be done as well[5]. He stares at his feet to avoid the glare of a few students that pass by him, he wished Gabriel would give him a key so he could at least wait in inside the car and not hover around it like a _goon_, though his brother probably enjoyed the idea of him feeling uncomfortable.

Several minutes pass before he finally hears the familiar sharp tap of Gabriel’s dress shoes and slap of Beelz’s vans hitting the asphalt. Aziraphale doesn’t need to look at them to know their hair is dishevelled and their uniforms are buttoned up incorrectly.

Once they’re close enough Gabriel kicks a small stone in his direction, "You look a little too eager to leave, Zira.”

Aziraphale flinches at the stone and let go of his bag’s strap, for the first time in days his excitement diminishes, "Yes well it would be quite unfortunate if Beelz were to be late for her appointment, would it not?"

Beelz huffs, "As touching as this new concern is, I know you just want to see your boyfriend" she rolls her eyes and waits by her door.

"Anthony[6] is not my" he stumbles over his words at the implication, "my boyfriend"

"_Anthony_, nice to finally know the name of my future loser-in-law" Gabriel slaps Aziraphale’s back on his way to the driver’s side.

Aziraphale can feel his face heat up and wishes he would just unlock the door already, "We're merely friends, Gabriel, really"

"That's right who would want to date you?" Gabriel and Beelz laugh as the doors finally unlock and they climb in.

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale is normally unaffected by their hurtful comments, but this one made his heart tighten in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He tries to push it from his mind, focusing only on the rows of houses and small businesses they pass on the way.

☀️☀️

The wait for Crowley to arrive was especially agonizing today, they normally get there 30 minutes before him, Aziraphale would usually take this time to read but based on his issues over the weekend he decided it was a lost cause. While looking around the room for anything to occupy his time he accidentally made eye contact with the receptionist, who took this as an opportunity to speak to him, "Good day, Mr. Aziraphale!" he smiles at her but she doesn't wait for him to respond verbally, "Oh, I must say I'm so glad you and Mr. Crowley have started talking!" Aziraphale wants to say that he is pleased as well but she barely stops for a breath, "You know, he's been coming for much longer than Miss Bellanore[7], he seemed quite lonesome."

Aziraphale sadly nods at the girl, he was no stranger to loneliness, and it saddened him knowing his friend had gone through it as well. His sadness is short-lived, and he can feel the excitement popping in his veins once again when he finally hears the door creak open.

Crowley saunters toward the receptionist desk with all the confidence he usually oozes, holding a tray containing three disposable cups the first of which he gives to the receptionist, “Mary! Tea, two sugars no cream, you boring thing.” Mary giggles and thanks him, he ‘tsks’ at her drink choice and takes the other two drinks from the tray, also handing that to Mary to throw away, before making his way towards his friend. “Good evening, Aziraphale,” he hands him a cup with ‘H/C’ messily scrawled on the lid, “you didn’t get your hot chocolate last time so...” his sentence trails off like he can’t be bothered to finish it. Aziraphale graciously accepts the drink, turning it around to take a sip he notices ‘ANGEL<3’ in large block letters along the side and he can’t help but freeze, Crowley notices and facepalms, “please ignore the ‘Angel’ the barista was trying to be funny.” He keeps the last drink for himself[8] and flips into his usual chair, “trying and failing.”

Aziraphale takes a long sip from his hot chocolate, it is simply divine! Sweet but not overly so. “Oh, thank you, Crowley! You honestly didn’t have to though, dear.” He struggles to keep his heart from leaping from his chest.

“S’what friends do, angel, no big deal[9],” Crowley smirks, leaning to his right slightly so their shoulders are touching. Aziraphale sighs, cursing Crowley in the depths of his mind. What a beautiful, ignorant fool, so blissfully unaware of how his words and actions make Aziraphale’s heart melt, making him completely incapable of intelligent thought. He leans a little deeper into the contact when Crowley speaks making him nearly jump and drop his cocoa, “So what are we reading today?”

Aziraphale quickly remembers the routine they’ve created for themselves, “Oh uh yes” he reaches into his bad taking out A Tale of Two Cities.

Crowley’s eyes widen, “You usually fly through your books, strange for you not to have it finished by now.”

Aziraphale wishes he had been smart enough to bring a different book, so he wouldn’t have to lie, “I had a lot to finish for school,” he smiles at him and sincerely hopes Crowley doesn’t press any further, “sorry, we don’t have to continue it if you don’t want to.”

Crowley is quick to shake his head, “That’s alright, angel, now I’ll get to know the ending[10].”

Aziraphale flashes him a bright smile and places his cocoa on the floor between his feet and opens the book where they’d left off on Friday.

They read for nearly 15 minutes, Crowley casually leaning against Aziraphale[11] when suddenly Crowley shoots upright in his chair as if remembering something, “Oh right! I forgot to ask last time; can I have your number?” He quickly turns several shades of crimson and clears his throat, no doubt embarrassed by his sudden outburst, “It would be nice to interact outside of this hell hole.”

Aziraphale smiles, mainly a new reflex his body has developed upon looking at Crowley, only to be quickly replaced by a frown, “Oh yes, well, I don’t actually have a mobile,” Crowley’s face immediately falls though he tries to hide it by looking around the waiting room Aziraphale can tell he’s a little hurt, out of fear that his friend thinks he’s just avoiding him he timidly continues, embarrassed to admit what he’s about to out loud, “I’ve never had anyone to text before, and I could call my parents from the landline, so it was pointless for me.” Ah! Aziraphale believes he has come to a solution and sends Crowley a smile, a shaky one but a smile none the less, “though if, well if it’s not too old fashioned for you I can give you my home phone and we can talk”

Crowley’s grin is back, “Of course, Angel, old fashioned seems more your style anyway, I mean tartan collar really?” He winks and Aziraphale nearly flinches before recognizing the tone as teasing rather than his brother’s usual harsher one. “You have a pen?” Crowley extends his long arm palm up lazily hovering above, but carefully not touching, Aziraphale’s knee.

“Umm I, uh perhaps” he’s digging frantically through his bag finding all kinds books and papers but somehow no pen, he is ready to give up when he sees something fly pass in the corner of his eye.

He looks up to find Crowley rubbing his forehead with one hand, holding a pen with the other, glaring at the receptionist, “Oh sorry Mr. Crowley! I had a pen and I wanted to help!” She tries to mask her giggles with concern but is doing an awful job at it.

Aziraphale sees the small red dot forming between his friend's eyes and tries, with great difficulty, to hide the grin spreading across his face with his abandoned book, “Are you alright, dear?”

Crowley huffs, “I expect this treatment from her,” he points his thumb in Mary’s direction, “but not you, angel.” He manages to keep up his hurt facade for a solid 10 seconds before a smile breaks out across his face, he grabs Aziraphale’s hand and carefully writes his number into his friend’s palm, adding a small smile after the last digit.

Aziraphale smiles at his palm, “Sorry next time I’ll be sure to thoroughly examine your injury” he opens the book again, and they go back to their reading, and back to leaning into one another. He waits for Crowley to shut his eyes, something he noticed his friend does when he’s focused on listening[12], before tightening the hand Crowley had just written his number on into a fist and pressing it against his chest, feeling so overwhelmed with joy it’s as if every cell in his body is pushing in a different, inching him closer and closer to death.

They stay like that, reading and listening and touching, for half an hour more before hearing the loud bang of the therapist's door slam open, Aziraphale sighs as Crowley quickly flinches away from him.

“Zzzzzzzira letzz go” Beelz hisses and storms pass them. She must have had a bad session to be so much more worked up than usual. Aziraphale keeps his palm closed tight, hiding the number, the last thing he needs is for her to take her anger out on him in the form of more taunts.

He grabs his things and is ready to leave when he realizes their foolish mistake. Beelz is already out the door so he grabs Crowley’s hand in the same fashion he has grabbed Aziraphale’s earlier, locates the pen and quickly scribbles his number onto his friend's palms “I won’t know when you get home, so you call me “ before quickly running out the doors.

It isn’t until he’s in the car and buckled up that he realizes how very forward he’d been, and groans.

“Oh, little bro, don't beat your self up, too much, maybe when if you change your, well everything, he’ll go on a date with you.” Gabriel and Beelz snicker in the front.

Aziraphale clenches his jaw, and he almost wants to open his hand and yell at them 'See! I have his number, he and I are quite good friends!' instead, he focuses on the digits on his palm, because it doesn't matter what they know; he knows.

☀️☀️

Like usual Gabriel drops Aziraphale off first so he and Beelz can make out somewhere secluded for a few hours, Aziraphale doesn’t mind in the slightest, it’s less time he has to deal with them berating him. The first thing he does after removing his shoes at the door is rush to his bedroom, writes down Crowley’s number into an inconspicuous notebook on his desk, then goes to the washroom across the hall to scrub the digits off his skin before anyone can question them.

His mum is working and his grandparents are in the garden so the house is quiet and empty, just the way he would normally like it, but today he could go for the slightest distraction, he grabs a book he has no intention of paying attention to and curls himself up in the armchair closest to the phone, trying to look nonchalant but anyone watching him can see his eyes are on the phone more than his book and he can’t sit still.

He reads[13] for nearly 40 minutes when the phone finally comes alive, he waits for a couple of rings, as to not seem too eager, before answering with 'the sophistication of a proper English gentleman' as his grandmother often persists he do, “Hello?”

“Hello, Angel, I’ll admit I was almost scared you weren’t going to pick up, or you have me the wrong number” he’s trying to come off as nonchalant but his genuine fear peaks through the slightest bit.

“Crowley,” All 'English sophistication' is out the window as Aziraphale’s voice instantly softens, even though he was expecting the call it was still so nice hearing his voice. “I’m glad you called.”

Crowley’s laugh, “Do you take me for the kind of guy that stands someone up?”

Aziraphale realizes that his voice sounds a little muffled, like the phone is being pressed against cloth, “Are you outside, my dear? I hear wind”

“Sorry," The audio gets clearer after a little shuffling on Crowley's part, "I asked my dad to let me walk the rest of the way so I could call sooner, I’m on my cell”

Aziraphale feels his stomach flip because no matter how he rephrases it in his mind, Crowley was excited to talk to him. “Ah, it’s quite alright, dear! I will admit, I was rather excited to hear from you.”

They both just laugh and it’s silent for just a moment before Crowley speaks again, “So what do you do when you aren’t reading to self-proclaimed delinquents in waiting rooms?”

☀️☀️

They spend the duration of Crowley’s walk home talking about their limited hobbies, Aziraphale knits and reads, he’s learning to cook too, though he much prefers the eating over the prep, while Crowley gardens and star gazes on clear nights, recently he has been working on convincing his grandad to give him his old Bentley when he eventually gets his license; it’s the first time either of them has been able to talk so carelessly without fear of being judged in quite some time.

When Crowley gets through his front door Aziraphale hears a slight echo, indicating he was put on speaker before he can say anything about it, his friend puts an end to his unspoken worries letting him know that he was home alone so no one would be listening.

He grabs a packet of crisps from the kitchen, ignoring Aziraphale's beratement of 'Really, my dear, you’re so thin you should consider something more nutritional.' Crowley only laughs before going to his room and shutting the door.

The audio is momentarily muted when the phone is, Aziraphale assumes, tossed onto the bed, it’s quickly fixed when Crowley picks it up again, “So do you go to a private school, what’s with the uniform?”

Aziraphale sighs, “A _Catholic _private school”

Crowley audibly gasps, “No way, with nuns and everything?”

“Yes, they’re everywhere,” Aziraphale shudders, “and they’re terrifying.”

“Do they make you kneel on pencils like you see on telly?”

“Well no, they prefer ordering sets of Hail Marys, and there was the one time they were going to leave me in France”

“They _wot_?! Leave you in France? Do share, Angel.”

Aziraphale laughs and starts from the beginning, "Well, you see, my school, being religious as it is, thought a trip to France touring the cathedrals would be quite beneficial to our education."

☀️☀️

Anyone who dared describe her son as quiet or shy have never had the chance of hearing him share an anecdote, she has barely stepped on the steps leading to the front door when Aziraphale's laughter rips through the air, a sound she hasn't heard enough of as of late but cherishes each time it emerges, "All I had wanted were _crepes_! Then suddenly I realized I had gotten myself lost, my group had long since forgotten me, and as you know, I do not own a mobile. It was quite a _traumatic _event!" he is silent for a moment, allowing whoever he was speaking to time to reply, "Everyone knows the best crepes are in Paris, who knew when I would be blessed with such a wonderous opportunity again."

Thea bursts through the door, shedding her scarf and coat[14] as she sings a strong 'I'm home, my dears.' which goes unanswered, coaxing her to drift into the living room where she sees her youngest happily chattering into the phone, Charles Dicken's Great Expectations long since abandoned on the arm of the chair. "Good evening, dear, talking to your dad I presume? Keep him on the line when you're done, I'd love to hear his voice."

Aziraphale takes the phone from his ear and presses it against his chest, “Oh, good evening, mum. It’s not dad, I’m talking to a friend,” he sounds hesitant when adding, "I can hang up if you would like to use the phone."

She is overjoyed to hear Aziraphale had made a friend, her smile doubles in size, “A friend? That’s wonderful, dear! No, don't worry about me, your dad is probably busy right now anyway," she makes her way back to the entrance closet to grab her coat again, " I won’t bother you anymore then, I’ll be in the garden with your grandparents if you need me.”

Just as quick as she had come Aziraphale's mum was gone again. He waits to hear the backdoor shut before lifting the phone back to his ear, “so sorry about that, my mum-”

“Is, also, American?” Crowley cuts him off, “are you the British sheep in the family, angel?”

Aziraphale can hear his muffled laughter and joins him, “No, my dad is British as well as my grandparents.”

Crowley loses almost all the joking tone he had in his voice, “Didn’t think you had a dad”

Aziraphale scoffs, “Well, of course, I have a dad, dear, how else would I be here?”

“Not like that, you idiot, like some people don't have both parents," with slight uncertainty he adds, "I just have my dad, mum died when I was a kid.”

Aziraphale feels his heart tighten a little, shocked by cruel the world had been to his friend, "I’m so sorry, Crowley “

“It’s nothing it’s been years” His words lack the usual confidence that backs them.

“Still, my deepest condolences.” Aziraphale hears his friend shuffle on the other end and fears he made him uncomfortable.

Crowley’s voice gets softer than Aziraphale had ever heard his friend get since knowing him, “Thank you, you know I think she would have liked you” he pauses “you’re so proper and polite she'd say you were a good influence on me.” The fondness in his voice radiates through the phone.

Aziraphale smiles, “Maybe she’d be right, or maybe she’d have it the other way around Mr. Anthony ‘wannabe tough guy who’s actually a huge softy that buys his friend cocoa’ Crowley”

Crowley huffs, “I _am_ a tough guy! Maybe you should watch out _I_ might be a bad influence on _you_, Mr. Aziraphale ‘literal angel’ uh um” he’s suddenly struggling with his words.

“What’s wrong dear?”

“Hey what’s your last name, angel?”

Aziraphale groaned, of course, this was something he had to bring up eventually, “Miracle”

Just as he suspected Crowley bursts out laughing, “No it is not!”

Aziraphale is glad to hear the joy in his friend's voice again but that doesn't stop him from rolling his eyes, “Yes, _it is_, please do stop laughing.”

“I apologize it’s just,” Crowley laughs again, “it’s just ‘angel’ and ‘miracle’ bit on the nose innit?”

He heaves a heavy sigh, “I’ve heard it all before.”

It takes Crowley a moment to come to terms with this new information but eventually his laughter dies off enough to respond again, “If it makes you feel any better, I have a pet snake and when I was younger people would call me ‘Crawley’ still do sometimes”

"Oh, children can be cruel," Aziraphale has to cover his mouth to stifle his laughter, “that does make me feel better though, thank you, dear.” he smiles into the phone, “So you have a snake? What’s that like”

“She’s kind of like a hairless legless dog, I’d kill a man for her”

☀️☀️

They talk for hours, jumping from subject to subject, nothing truly off-limits, both eager to learn more about their new friend. All good things must come to an end, and when Aziraphale hears the front door open and close, shortly followed by Gabriel talking to their mum in the kitchen, he knew their end was near.

This fear is validated when Gabriel joins him in the sitting room and relaxes into a recliner across the room. Aziraphale feels embarrassed continuing any conversation with his brother in earshot, “Uh I have to go, but if I’m not being too bold, would you like to call again tomorrow?”

“Absolutely!” Crowley accidentally shouts into the phone but quickly reels himself back in, “I mean yeah, sure, other than therapy I don’t do anything after school. When do you get home?”

Aziraphale, having never considered this before, does some quick maths and comes up with, “3:30[15], except on Tuesdays or Fridays, of course.”

“I get home around 3:45, I can call you then if you’d like”

“Yes, that would be lovely” despite Gabriel sitting so near, obviously ignoring the television programme he turned on in favour of eavesdropping, he can’t suppress his smile, he presses the base of his palm into his cheek in hopes of shielding it a little, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then, dear” he almost wishes he’d gone for just ‘Crowley’, so his brother couldn’t take the situation the wrong way but mostly he doesn’t care.

“Can't wait, angel, night.” Crowley tries to suppress a yawn; had they really been talking for that long?

“Goodnight.” Aziraphale waits to hear the click indicating the end of the call not wanting to be the one that ends it, but it doesn’t come.

“Hang up, angel.” Crowley laughs.

He laughs too, “I don’t want to.”

“Well, I’m not, so you have to.” The tiredness in his friend's voice is starting to come through now, but Aziraphale wanted to hold out for just a little longer.

“I guess we’re staying on the phone then.” He tries to stifle a yawn of his own, but it persists.

“You sound tired, Angel.” Crowley teases.

“Not in the slightest, besides I don’t want to hang up first” Gabriel sends him a look that reads 'Are you _seriously_ doing this?' he pretends not to notice and stares at the table housing the phone to avoid any further judgement.

Crowley is moving around again, probably getting more comfortable, “Okay, count of three we’ll do it the same time.”

Aziraphale considers this for a moment and agrees this may be the only way they'll get to sleep, “On or after three?”

“On three” Like it was _ridiculous_ to even consider after three an option.

They count down in unison,

“Ok, one.” He didn't need to hang up, not if Crowley was going to.

“Two.” This way he'd be triumphant.

“Three” The dial tone is still absent, and Aziraphale is only mildly shocked that Crowley had the same idea, “You didn’t hang up! You foul fiend!”

“Neither did you! You’re a bad angel!”

They’re both laughing like idiots, “Fine, let’s try again, one” Aziraphale sees Gabriel get up out of the corner of his eye, better late than never he supposed.

“Two,” Surely Crowley wouldn't do it a second time, would he?

Gabriel slams his hand down in the receiver, “Three,” Aziraphale looks at his brother, then back at the phone, mouth agape, “that was _unbearable_ to watch, night nerd.”

As Gabriel walks away Aziraphale can hear him grumbling to himself, “We’re _merely_ friends, Gabriel, _really_” mocking him for what he said earlier.

Aziraphale throws his head back against the chair and groans, 'unbearable' Really, Gabriel? as if he hadn’t just come home from being with Beelz all evening.

He pushes that thought far from his mind and smiles at the ceiling and closes his eyes because he, technically speaking, still wasn’t the first to hang up, something he’ll be sure to let Crowley know tomorrow.

Tomorrow, around 3:45.

[1] They are the most beautiful shade of amber Aziraphale had ever seen.

[2] He had since learned that his suave appearance was just an act, and if he gets the slightest bit embarrassed it quickly falls apart.

[3] Not for the first time, Aziraphale wished his grandparents hadn't insisted he attend a Catholic school, Sisters can be horrifying.

[4] Their father’s old car, put in storage when he left for work, taken out of storage when his eldest got his license.

[5] Aziraphale wasn't a fool, he knew that they both always skipped their final classes of the day to make-out behind the gardener's shed so making him wait for so long was quite rude.

[6] He nearly says ‘Crowley’, but it felt too personal, calling him Crowley felt special to Aziraphale and he didn’t want to share it with his brother.

[7] Beelz _refuses_ to answer to this and curses her mother for naming her something so _feminine._

[8]A neon concoction with enough sprinkles and cream to send a unicorn into a diabetic coma.

[9] Actually, it was a big of a deal as he had to be his father to make the extra stop.

[10] This is a lie; he hadn’t paid attention for a second of it.

[11] Who tries with all his might to focus only on the words he’s reading, because thinking about Crowley leaning against him would kill him instantaneously.

[12] This is true, though instead of being focused on the words like Aziraphale assumes Crowley is focused on memorizing his friend's voice and the feeling of resting against his shoulder.

[13] If reading consisted of laying a book open flay on your lap while you stare longingly at the phone, then one may say Aziraphale read quite a bit.

[14] Though her in-laws may argue that 16 degrees Celsius is a respectable temperature for the time of year she was used to the Florida heat and needed the extra layers.

[15] This takes into account the extra 10 minutes Gabriel and Beelz make him wait by the car while they 'finish class'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's so long, I just kept adding more and didn't know where to stop.   
Ahh and Aziraphale's POV, I *struggled* but I really wanted to introduce his mom.  
I'm sorry this is so garbage, I had to post it though, or I was going to edit it for the next three weeks jfc.
> 
> angelicallydevilish on tumblr <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for the feedback xoxoxoxo

It had been a week and a half since Thea had first come home to her youngest talking on the phone with his friend, since then they've spoken nearly every day[1], and she had no issues with this; Aziraphale was a diligent student and always completed his schoolwork on time, never receiving any notes home from his teachers. Not having an issue with it did not mean she wasn't curious though, in his nearly 15 years Aziraphale has had acquaintances, sure, but never friends; certainly no one he spoke with for hours on the phone.

She considered, at first, simply asking Aziraphale himself about his new friend, but despite him being such a gentle soul he was still a teenager, she could recall being his age and lying to her parents most times just as an act of rebellion, so she couldn't _really_ blame him if he withheld some information.

No, if she was going to learn anything it would have to come from a different source, a source that is home alone Tuesdays and Fridays as he waits to pick up his girlfriend and brother from a speech therapy clinic, and as luck would have it[2] on this particular Friday she was in the kitchen, laptop open on the table in front of her to give the illusion of working, when in reality shew was waiting patiently. Finally, she hears a rattle of keys and the door opening and closing, her wait is over. "Good evening, Gabriel dear."

Gabriel enters the kitchen and makes a beeline to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle, "Hey, mom, working home today?"

"Hm?" She looks at her laptop and remembered her excellent ruse, "Oh yes, hard at it," she closes the laptop, pushing it to the side inviting Gabriel to sit with her, "I needed to ask you something though," he pulls out a chair and sits across from her, sending her a questioning look, "Gabriel, my darling, do you happen to know who your brother is always talking to?"

Gabriel lets out a deep groan, "_An-tho-ny_" pronouncing each syllable with an added detest, "He's at the clinic the same days as Beelz." he then seems to remember his water bottle, uncaps it and takes a long swig.

Thea feels her excitement immediately be replaced with concern, "He isn't a bad kid, is he?"

"No, but they've been unbearable ever since they started dating!" Gabriel rolls his now half-empty water bottle around on the table, "It's always 'You hang up first, Anthony' 'I miss you, Anthony' 'let's stay on the phone for 6 hours, Anthony" Gabriel makes fake kissing sounds accompanied with an atrocious English accent that any other time would cause his mom to laugh, but right now she's left shocked at the information Gabriel supplied her with.

Thea audibly gasps, eyes blown out, "Dating?!" she was ashamed to admit that of all the things Gabriel could have told her this wasn't even on the list, let alone high on it.

"Yeah, I was shocked too," He rolls his eyes and finishes his water, "They met at one of Beelz's appointments, and now all he can think about is his _boyfriend_, I'd say get a room but he _has_ to use the landline it's annoying." the end trails off as he gets up to put the bottle in the recycling.

Boyfriend? Thea was still struggling to grasp this information, though in her defence up until recently Aziraphale struggled when interacting with anyone outside their family, and now he had a boyfriend, her sweet boy was growing up. She smiles at her son, "Now, Gabriel, Aziraphale had to put up with you and Beelz being lovey-dovey for years surely you can do the same for him.

He scoffs, offended by the comment, "We aren't like them though mom, you haven't seen them in action!"

"Oh hush, I have to get going, work, don't forget to pick them up!" She packs up her things and Gabriel throws her a week wave on her way out the door.

Gabriel's comment about the landline gave her a wonderful idea, she makes it across town to the shopping centre where she finds a small shop selling mobiles, she peruses their selection and settles on a simple but modern looking smartphone, perfect for her son. The workers bag it for her, and she heads home again.

When she gets there Gabriel had already left and she goes into Aziraphale's room leaving the gift on his desk, she was certain he’d be ecstatic but for now, she really did have to get back to work, today she was interviewing an old priest who had some unique views on the church as a whole.

☀️☀️

Aziraphale gets home to find the house empty once again, still smiling from being as to see Crowley, as wonderful as the hours of conversation had been seeing him again in the flesh was simply euphoric. He goes to his room to dispose of his bag when he notices something on his desk he hadn't left there that morning, a small box covered by a short handwritten note:

_Aziraphale,_

_Now you can talk to Anthony with a bit more privacy, though I would like to meet him soon._

_xo,_

_mom_

He's confused at first by how she knew his friend's name, but he quickly remembers his brother and his desire to make him suffer, of course, he had told their mother. Aziraphale was still confused by what the note had meant though, he peels it off laying it on the desk and picking up the box turning it over in his hands a few times trying to figure out its contents, before just giving in and opened the box to reveal, "A mobile?" He was shocked but at the same time eternally grateful, now he wouldn't have to talk in the sitting room and worry who could hear, bless his mother.

He quickly ripped the phone from the box excited to begin using it only to be hit with the sad realization that he had never used a mobile phone before and had no idea how to even turn it on.

☀️☀️

It takes him nearly 30 minutes but thanks to the assistance of the very useful manual supplied and his godsend patience, he managed to locate the charger, plug it in, and turn the phone on. He can figure the rest out later, right now he had more important things to do; like wildly searching through his notebook to find Crowley’s number and adding it.

He finds it and locates the icon of the little man and the plus sign the manual told him he needed to add a contact, pushing it with a bit more force than necessary, he adds the name and number, and is given the option to “Send text”, he considers what he should say for a minute, this was the first text he has ever sent he wanted to do it right, he settles on a simple ‘Hello’, hitting send.

He doesn’t have to wait for long before a small box pops up on his screen that reads ‘NEW MESSAGE’ he hits it and is sent to another screen this one with ‘CROWLEY’ on the top, his previous message displayed on the right of the screen.

_Crowley: hey? whos this???_

In his excitement, he has forgotten to tell Crowley it was him, how foolish.

_SENT: So sorry, dear, this is Aziraphale, my mum got me a phone. I am quite delighted._

_Crowley: Aziraphale! Welcome to the modern age, Angel _🎉🎉

_SENT: Why thank you. It’s taking some getting used to though I must say._

The buttons are too small, so it takes a while to type a message, it frustrates Aziraphale a little but it’s worth it to talk to his friend. Two more texts come in rapid-fire.

_Crowley: lol I bet_

_Crowley: Whats my name in ur phone_

_SENT: lol?_

_Crowley: ‘laugh out loud’ its text speak_

_SENT: Oh, ‘Crowley’. Why? Should it be something else?_

_Crowley: Sometimes ppl give their friends funny names it’s w/e_

_Crowley: ill fix it when I c u nxt_

Aziraphale was struggling with keeping up with the texts and what they meant, he decided he much preferred speaking over the phone.

_SENT: How much longer is your appointment, dear?_

_Crowley: soon the dr is trying to make me do mouth exercises but I tapped out around the time u txtd me tbh_

_SENT: Right. Would you still be interested in speaking over the phone, despite my acquiring a mobile?_

_Crowley: aw do u miss my voice angel?? _💕

Aziraphale feels his face heat up at the suggestion.

_SENT: Truthfully, I’m having quite a hard time getting used to this_

_Crowley: ROFL Don’t worry angel i like talking 2 u_

_Crowley: shit the dr looks pissed that I’m txting_

_Crowley: I’ll txt when I’m out x_

Aziraphale sighed, he had his work cut out for him if he hoped to catch up to Crowley.

🌙🌙

_Angel _😇💕_: Of course, dear. I hope to hear from you soon._

Crowley smiles at the text before hastily shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Anthony!” Crowley’s head shoots up to his doctor looking irritated at him “How do you expect to speak correctly if you don’t pay attention in any of our sessions?” 

“Yes, sorry Dr. Zuigiber” He reminds crumpled in his chair, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall beside the door, giving the impression that he wasn't _actually_ sorry and had no real intention of focusing.

She sighs and rubs a hand over her eyes at this point she almost prefers her child clients, at least they can be persuaded to concentrate with the promise progress stickers and the occasional candy.

They spend the next 20 minutes in a battle for power, she would present him with a series of exercises he could practice for better word control, he resisted, saying the farm animals on the flashcards made it feel too childish, and thus was the way until the egg timer on her desk dinged, it was finally over and they could part ways for a few more days. By the end of the session, nothing had changed except that the doctor was now a little bit closer to quitting and moving to Africa, never helping brats with their speech again[3], she hastily dismisses him with a defeated, “See you on Tuesday, Kid.”

Crowley nearly trips over his uncoordinated limbs running out of the room, zipping pass Mary waving to her on his way out the door where his father is already waiting in the parking lot tapping the steering wheel impatiently. He wordlessly hops in the car and pulls out his phone opening his messages ready to send Aziraphale a text, but before he can start his father clears his throat grabbing his attention, “Well? Are you fixed yet?"

"Nearly there now I believe." Crowley mentally pats himself on the back for managing to avoid words that would prove him as a liar, Crowley respectfully waits in silence for a moment for his father to say something but other than his father's disbelieving 'hmm' he doesn't get a response, so he dives back into his phone.

_SENT: Out now_

_SENT: chilly 2day not gonna wall so ill be a little late calling sorry x_

_SENT: walk*_

_Angel _😇💕_: No worries, dear, I’m not going anywhere._

Crowley smiles, even while texting Aziraphale is so proper.

SENT: loosen up a little u dont have 2 txt so formally lol x

_Angel _😇💕: I’m not well versed in this ‘text speech’ like you are my apologies.

They drive for another ten minutes, Crowley texting happily when his father clears his throat, disturbing the silence and ripping Crowley’s attention from his phone, “Not walking today then?”

Crowley shrugs, "Bit cold today." Truth be told, he was nervous, every Saturday for the last 4 years[4] he babysat his neighbour's son[5], last Saturday Crowley had wanted to invite Aziraphale to join him but lost his nerve last-minute, giving a lame excuse for being busy with no further explanation, but today he’d ask him, he just needed a couple of extra minutes to prepare.

🌙🌙

His father drops him off at their house, not even bothering to put the car in park, ‘I have to get back to work’ he always says, kids at school always joke that he’s mafia Crowley doubts they’re far from the truth but he wouldn’t know it’s a secret to him as well. He’s in the house, shoes off, bedroom door closed[6] in record time.

_SENT: I’m gonna call now_

He doesn’t wait for a reply just hits the CALL button, it rings a couple of times and for a second he wonders if Aziraphale gave up on the cell phone altogether and if he should try the house phone, but then the rings cut off and he hears the angelic voice he’s grown so accustomed to, “Sorry, dear, I wasn’t sure how to answer the phone but I figured it out” he chuckles into the phone, and Crowley smiles.

“No worries, angel, you got there,” he puts his phone on speaker placing it on his pillow and rolling onto his back, “has it really been that hard for you.”

He hears Aziraphale huff into the phone and he has to cover his mouth to hide his laugh, “Well I am far behind, Crowley, all of these acronyms you keep sending I have no idea what they mean,” Aziraphale tsked “For example, what on earth is a ROFL?”

This time his laughter can not be contained, he throws his forearm over his eyes, “It’s just something you say when something’s funny, angel, ‘Rolling On Floor Laughing’”

Aziraphale gives him a contemplative hmm, “And the x at the end of the texts?”

Crowley tries his best to hide the uncertainty in his voice, “Ah well, that’s just how you end a text to a friend” he hated to admit it, but he's new to most of this as well, most of what he knows is from the internet or the odd text from his cousin.

"I see, well I'll have to start sending them to you as well," light laughter drifts from the speaker, "I wouldn't want you questioning our friendship."

"You don't have to worry about that, angel," Crowley laughs, there were few things in this world he had stronger faith in than their connection, “any other questions?”

“Actually, what is an ‘emoji’? I know they're some sort of smiley face, but I must admit my knowledge is limited beyond that,” The uncertainty of Aziraphale's words, and how foreign they sound coming from his mouth makes Crowley laugh uncontrollably, causing his friend to huff once again, "Really, Crowley, you offered to help, there's no need to laugh at me."

Crowley coughs to cover up the end of his laugh, “Put me on speaker and open our text messages” he hears Aziraphale's heavy tapping of the screen, then suddenly the call is ended, and he's laughing all over again, he takes a minutes to cease his laughter before calling back, it's answered nearly immediately. "Didn't think I upset you that much, angel."

Aziraphale sounds slightly panicked, “So sorry dear, I must confess I’m not sure how to put you on speaker”

Crowley smiles at his ceiling, he will never know how someone could manage to make learning basic phone operations adorable, but that was Aziraphale, “There should be an icon that looks like a megaphone and some squiggles.”

“Aha, I’ve found it!" there's another heavy tap and, "Is it working?”

“You tell me” Crowley smirks, proud that Aziraphale has managed to get it.

“Oh! I’ve got it, dear, thank you” Aziraphale's excitement bubbles through the phone.

“Right now, go to our messages” he waits for Aziraphale’s hmm to continue, “there should be a smile on the bottom left of the screen click that and you can go through the emojis”

He hears some more tapping and just has his phone vibrates Aziraphale says, “Did you get it?”

Crowley reaches behind his head for his phone, nearly dropping it on his face when he sees what Aziraphale has sent, why did he subject himself to this torture?

_Angel _😇💕_: _👋😊💕_ x_

He lazily types out a reply, feeling guilty not responding to something so unbelievably sweet.

_SENT: _😇💕_ xx_

“Looks good, Angel, you're a pro.” Crowley smiles, still staring at their text conversation.

“Thank you, dear, I am having quite a good time with them” Just as Aziraphale is finished talking Crowley gets three text notifications rapid fire.

Angel 😇💕: 💗💗

Angel 😇💕: 💓💓💓

Angel 😇💕: 💖🥰

Why couldn't he have just told Aziraphale that emojis were some sort of computer virus and to never touch them? The virtual hearts he's receiving at rapid succession are making his physical heart weak.

There's a lull in the conversation as Aziraphale is occupied with exploring the emoji keyboard, Crowley decides this is the time to ask what he'd been putting off, “So I was thinking.”

Angel 😇💕: ❣️💞

“Dangerous.” Aziraphale laughs.

Angel 😇💕: 🤡😂

“Funny,” Crowley rolls his eyes, “Well you know how I was busy last Saturday?”

Angel 😇💕: 😗😜😘

“I believe I recall something of the sort.” Aziraphale's voice has the slightest trace of irritation, and the tapping on his screen momentarily slows.

Angel 😇💕: 🌟🐍

Crowley clears his throat, this was it, “I babysit this kid, Adam, real sweet kid he is, anyway I babysit Adam on Saturdays I was just ashamed to tell you.”

Angel 😇💕: 🥰🥰

Any irritation that may have been there had completely vanished as Aziraphale speaks again, “Oh, no need to be ashamed of that, dear, that's quite respectable.”

Angel 😇💕: 😊👍💕💕

He could have left it at that, revealing his dark secret of being a child's carer once a week, but he had been staring at each text as it came in, laughing at some, swooning at all, and the most recent string of emojis combined with Aziraphale's spoken encouragement gave him the last bit of courage he needed to get this over with, “That’s good to hear because what I’m getting at is his parents are always telling me to bring a friend if I’d like[7]so if you want you can come, Mr. Young can drive you home afterwards he’s good for it.”

Suddenly the texts come to a halt, “We’d be ‘hanging out’? On a Saturday?”

Panic begins to bubble in Crowley's stomach and his heart tightens, too fast, "Uh that is if you want, I know Tuesday’s and Friday’s are kind of our thing but-"

Aziraphale quickly cuts him off, “no, no! I’d love to! I was just shocked, happily shocked.”

Crowley’s heart rate slows again, and he smiles, “Okay, good, I thought I overstepped”

“Impossible, dear” his voice embodies pure calmness.

Crowley fidgets with his hands, “Actually, uh, I don’t need to be there until 5-ish, if you want, we can hang out a bit before getting some cocoa maybe go for a walk?”

He hears a loud creak as his friend must have moved quickly in his bed, “Certainly!! That would be delightful!”

“Great! I’ll text you the address later” With that out of the way he finally felt at ease, time for a real conversation, "So, what'd you do in school today? Other than missing me tremendously, of course."

"_Missing me tremendously, of course._" Aziraphale scoffs mocking him.

Crowley grins, everyone gets to see Aziraphale in his angelically poised manner, but only he gets to see his friend's secret cheeky personality, it felt special, "You can admit it, angel, you count down the seconds until we meet again[8]."

Aziraphale snorts, "Yes, Crowley, I miss you _terribly_, I can _barely_ pay attention, the sisters threaten to keep me after class."

"The first step to overcoming addiction is admitting it, good job, angel." Their conversation dissolves into a fit of laughter, they spend the next hour teasing one another without having any clue that is was all truth, they missed each other a ridiculous amount, much to the annoyance of nearly everyone around them on a daily basis.

☀️☀️

They follow their usual routine of talking about anything they can think of until one or both of them gets too tired to continue, Aziraphale is the first to break when his stomach grumbles loudly, forcing him to realize he hadn’t had any supper, “Feeling a bit peckish, dear, I think I’m going to end the call, I do look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

Crowley lets out an exaggerated yawn, “Night, angel.”

Aziraphale nearly attempts to prolong the call because even after all this time hanging up first irks him, but his stomach grumbles again, demanding he go, Crowley laugh as he struggles to find the button to end the call.

He tosses his phone on the bed and makes his way towards the kitchen where the light is still on, he silently prays it isn’t Gabriel. Thankfully when he gets there it’s his mum seated at the kitchen table, cup of tea in one hand, a book in the other, she looks up at him as he enters and smiles “Hello, my sweet. I didn’t see you all evening, so I assume you found the gift?”

“Oh yes! Thank you very much, mum!” He crosses the kitchen, kissing her on the cheek and a tight hug.

“No worries dear, but in exchange, I want to meet this boy” she winks.

Aziraphale blushes, “Actually I was wondering if tomorrow you would be able to give me a ride? I’m meeting him for cocoa.”

“Of course, dear!!” Aziraphale’s stomach growls again and she lays get book and tea on the table getting up from her chair, “how about I make you a sandwich?”

“Oh yes please” he takes a seat at the table, his mum normally is home for long so the last few months she’s really been babying him to make up for lost time, he doesn't complain.

She sets to work making his sandwich, peanut butter and jam, simple but classic, “You must be excited about your date.”

“Mum, please, you’re worse than Gabriel” Aziraphale throws his head into his hands, he didn't ask for ridicule, he just wanted something to eat.

It's silent for a moment as she cuts his sandwich and places it in front of him, he thinks that may have been it and nothing more will be said about it, but, of course, his mother sits across from him folding her hands under her chin and grinning at him, “Well, is he handsome?”

“Mum!” he groans, there was no point in resisting so he just gave in, “ yes, quite actually, he has these eyes and his hair is so, and just,” he sighs into his hands, embarrassed by his lack of words when it hits him, "He's just _ineffable_."

His mother smirks, “Save the effort, I can make my assessment when I see him tomorrow.”

Aziraphale whips his head in her direction, mild panic in his eyes, “Oh, mum, I do greatly appreciate you driving me, really, but would you mind horribly staying in the car?” She takes a long sip from her tea and winks, a wink he sincerely hopes means ‘no worries I wouldn’t want to embarrass my teenage son so horribly’ but more than likely translates into, ‘not a chance, kid’.

She leans back in her chair, picking up her book again, "What did you plan on wearing?"

All his embarrassment is swapped for confusion, he looks down at himself then back at his mum, "What I normally wear, I suppose."

"Oh, darling, no I can't have you going on your first date dressed like a middle-aged man," she tsked, calmly flipping a page.

Aziraphale reddens, how far must her teasing go? "Mum, it's not a date."

"Oh yes well, you can't dress like a middle-aged man for your first not-date," she smiles sweetly at him, "I'll find you something tomorrow, no worries, dear."

Suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore Aziraphale stares hopelessly at his sandwich, yes, no worries indeed.

☀️☀️

[1] _ The only exception being Saturday, when she found her son in the kitchen, rather than the living room, mopping and making cookies. When she asked what was wrong, he said Crowley was busy on Saturdays._

[2] _ Luck is not involved, as an independent writer, she has complete control over her schedule._

[3] _This goes up a little each time she has Beelz and Crowley back to back._

[4] _ By himself for four years, but he’s helped watch him while his mum was busy or just needed to take a nap since he was just a baby._

[5]_At 10 Adam hardly needed a babysitter anymore but It allowed them time to hang out whilst Crowley got some extra cash, pl_us Crowley always let Adam have whatever he wanted for supper as long as he didn’t tell his parents, once they had ice lollies and take away pizza, it was wicked.

[6] _Despite being home alone he always closes and locks it, gives an extra illusion of privacy._

[7] _He’d never had a friend up until now to even consider asking._

[8] _If only he knew how close he was to the truth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I'm sorry if the end is like /off/ I wrote one chapter and it ended up being 10,000 words which I thought was a bit ridiculous for one chapter, so I split them in two next chapter will be their not-date~~  
2) Everyone who wanted more Gabriel+Beelz I haven't ignored you, they're just after the split  
3) Uhhh yeah, I made War Crowley's speech therapist why??? no clue, I just love War lololol  
4)I'm sorry for the emoji use jfc  
5) angelicallydevilish on tumblr :) sometimes I post about the fic, or you can interact with me idk I'm p chill (and lonely)  
6) oh yeah yes I went there Adam is Crowley’s kid neighbour who he babysits

**Author's Note:**

> first fic please be kind  
angelicallydevilish on tumblr xo  
Edit: I figured out how to link the footnotes tot he bottom and send you back to the text can I get a wahoo??


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